All American Rejects (Users #3) (16 page)

A thin layer of glass in his goggles was all that protected his eyes from the blinding wind as he climbed to the sky, thinking he could disappear in the haze of thick clouds. The steam from the wing pack blended with the mist of the clouds to surround him in a brew of dense fog as he hovered in midair. Waiting, he hoped they would continue on, that by some will of the Gods they would pass by him, that somehow he had slipped past their pursuit. It was quiet up here. No sound but the hum of the water pressure on his back and the beating of his wings.

He almost convinced himself they had given up when a gust of air slapped him in the face followed by the whirl of a huge propeller spinning so fast the blades appeared an unbroken spiral wall. The wind moved in one unending wave, sending his cover floating away on the breeze, and revealing his presence to all aboard the air ship's deck. Another saw blade whizzed his way. He tucked and dove head first to keep his wings from being clipped as the saw buzzed past. A draft of warm air filled his wings as he spread wide catching the current to soar above the ship's long balloon. More saws chased his trail of fluffy steam as he came across the bow and out into open air.

He went higher to escape the buzzing saws, past Olympus, realm of the Gods, and through the dispersed clouds. Up and up he went, until he passed even their reach. An endless sea of blue lay before him. The only destination above him was a great glowing ball of light, the home of Apollo. The Sun. Its heat overwhelmed him. The intense glare shimmered off the glass of his goggles, blinding him. The turbine on his chest sputtered the gears on his back grinding to a halt. His wings flapped one last time. He fell.